"He loves his girlfriend, but he wants to have sex with me," I told a friend tonight. I was talking about one guy in particular, but I could have been talking about any one of dozens.
My friend nodded.
"And I don't want that. I want someone to love me. Or, at least, I want someone who wants to love me. Or, at least, to try to."
And for the first time ever I think, I meant it. I wasn't settling for scraps, any offhanded affection or late night intention thrown my way under the table.
Is that too much to ask? For someone just to try to love me?
For all the guys out there who just want to be friends, who don't want to get involved, who are in relationships with someone else, who are working too hard, drinking too much, and disappearing for two months at a time, I have to keep my eyes on the prize.
I am not your secret to keep.
You should be proud to have me in your life.
And if you're not, I have to move on.
Open Letter to the Wrong Tree
The One Who Loves Alone
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